


Diabolica

by Syllfael



Category: The Collector Series (Movies)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Medium Burn, Professor!Asa, slightly AU, to enemies to lovers to enemies etc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syllfael/pseuds/Syllfael
Summary: * will be slow to update for now *She needs a supervisor for her graduate thesis, he needs a teaching assistant - it would be a perfect match, if only they didn't absolutely despise each other.
Relationships: The Collector (Collector Series)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 4





	Diabolica

Rhiannon traces the outer edge of the butterfly wing with one painted fingernail, admiring the contrast between the purple and gold. Normally she wouldn't snoop, but he has so many lovely things in his office - surely the point was to display them to visitors? And, even if not - what was he going to do about it?

He'd asked to see her, even scheduled a specific time, but he was pulled away just after she'd arrived. He'd said to wait here, that he wouldn't be long. She had no problem with that (classes didn't start for a few more weeks, so she had time), especially when it gave her free reign to peruse his collection.

There were several pinned insects and arachnids, which was unsurprising, but pleasant to look at. There was one particularly large tarantula that she took her time examining before moving on to the bookshelves. These contained mostly entomology texts and the like - again, not shocking - but a few of them looked old, more like collector's items than anything. She leafed gently through a few of those, noting some lovely illustrations.

She did find a few outliers; the book on medieval torture devices was a bit of a surprise. So were the medical and architecture books, though not quite as much - those seemed in line with the kind of side-interests he'd have. She pulled out the torture book and read through some of it, ending up so engrossed in the volume that she doesn't hear him return until he closes the door behind him with a _click_.

Unhurried, she shuts the book with a quiet _snap_ , places it back in its spot on the shelf, and turns to face him.

"Find something interesting?" He asks, and she picks up the stern foundation in his tone, the way one brow rises slightly - it's subtle, but she picks it up - and she fights not to roll her eyes. If he thinks she's that easy to intimidate, he hasn't been paying attention.

"Maybe," Rhiannon shrugs lightly, then the shadow of a smirk crosses her face. "Why? Got something in here I'm not supposed to see?"

He's silent, but if his gaze were a knife she'd be bleeding.

Finally, quietly, he releases the breath he'd been holding, and some of the tension in the line of his shoulders dissipates. He gestures toward the chair on the other side of his desk - Rhiannon takes it as he moves to sit behind the desk.

"I requested to see you today because I have a job offer for you," he began, and she wasn't surprised he was getting right to the point; she'd never known him to meander through a conversation. "I need a TA this year, and you've traditionally been my best student. Even now that you're in graduate classes."

Well, that was surprising, and Rhiannon didn't bother to hide it in her expression - as far as she knew, he'd never chosen to use a TA before. Not to mention - despite the fact that she did well in his classes - she would never have expected him to approach _her_ with the offer.

"Hmm. And here I was under the impression you didn't think much of me," she says, and she's successful at keeping the smirk off her face, but between her tone and the look in her eyes she needn't have bothered.

Honestly, she expects him to ignore the remark; he's not the type to deny it because it's the "polite" thing to do, and he's too stoic to rise to her bait. So, the deceitfully warm smile that graces his features in response unnerves her immediately.

"On the contrary; in fact, I don't think _anything_ of you."

It's a sharp bite that leaves its fangs behind as it retreats, pumping venom even after the sting subsides. She fights the urge to wince.

 _Ooh, he's **extra** grumpy today, _she thinks, and she wants to scowl but she makes herself mirror his smile instead.

"Ouch," she says, chuckling, shrugging off the puncture wounds, "so why ask me, then, is my question? And don't repeat the same BS about me being the top student - I'm sure there's someone _almost_ as smart as me who would -" _get along with you better_ , _be easier to manage_ \- "be a better fit for the position."

"Oh, undoubtedly," he answers quickly - she bristles again - "but I'm looking for competence, not... compatibility. The workload is quite intense, due to some upcoming changes in the university's structure. I don't believe any of my other students would be able to handle it while keeping up the rest of their grades. So, unfortunately, we're back to you."

"Well, that _is_ a shame," Rhiannon clicks her tongue, feigning sympathy, "but what makes you think I'd want anything to do with this... opportunity?"

She revels; time to make him sweat. He needs her, he practically said as much - the power balance slides back in her direction and she starts to smirk - but then he shifts his eyes away from her, as if in consideration. For some reason, it sets an ominous feeling in her stomach; something significantly uglier and more dangerous than butterflies beating their wings against the lining of her gut.

"I'm surprised you have to ask. As a graduate student, certain things are expected of you, which include responsibilities such as this, and, more importantly, your thesis... of which I happen to know the subject."

At this, his gaze flickers back to hers, scorching in its intensity, and there it is - the jaws clamp shut around her throat, leaving an echo of the _snap_ of teeth ringing in her ears.

The illusion of control is ripped away, leaving her stumbling to keep her feet under her, as she's brutally reminded of all the reasons she _hates_ the man in front of her.

In truth, she'd had him pegged almost the second she walked into her first class. His stoic, businesslike manner might fool most people he encounters, but she saw straight through him. Controlling, uncompromising, egoistic - she'd seen his kind enough to recognize it. Her dislike of him had only grown since then, and he'd seemed to return the sentiment; by this point, they were arch-nemeses masquerading as casual academic acquaintances. She'd considered changing her major more than once, just so she wouldn't have to see him anymore.

And now, it seems - she swallows hard, nearly shaking with fury, gripping the arms of her chair hard enough to make the wood creak - she'd be seeing enough of him to wonder if they'd both make it out alive.

\-----

He hadn't noticed her at first - why would he? She was another student in an exhausting sea of them - but then she _excelled_ , and continued to do so, and all without needing him to manage her or hold her hand. Her work was some of the best he'd seen at her level. He hadn't been shocked when she'd changed her major from whatever it had been previously - she'd shown affinity, talent... potential. Then she'd graduated, returned, and _continued_ to excel.

He might have liked her, if only he hadn't despised her almost immediately.

It wasn't that she caused him any trouble; her attitude just grated on his nerves in the worst possible way. She was arrogant, self-centered, and belligerently apathetic - and it didn't help any that she seemed immune to manipulation. He knew she didn't feel any fondness for him, either, and they just seemed to be losing more and more patience with each other over time.

He'd thought about collecting her. He already knew exactly what he'd do with her; the image burned brilliantly in the back of his mind. Every time he started to seriously consider it, though, he decided he'd rather just kill her and dispose of the body - that seeing her in a glass case every day, in _his_ sanctuary, would only get under his skin. Then, after a while, he'd grow tired of the idea altogether and just settle on giving her a wide berth.

Right at this moment, he was glad she was still alive - if only so he could watch her smug expression cave in, giving way to shock, alarm, distaste, _fury_. She was flushed and snarling, her eyes burning with naked animosity. This is easily the most unsettled he'd ever seen her, and it granted him a level of satisfaction he rarely got to experience.

He feels a smile - was it a smile? - stretch its way across his face. Would she scream at him? _Lunge_ at him? She might even try to hit him, and he'd have to subdue her -

She jumps suddenly to her feet, and for a wild, exhilarating moment he thinks he _will_ get to use force against her - but she turns around, shoves the chair out of the way - it goes screeching across the room, slams into a bookshelf - and stalks toward the door.

He stands, though he's not sure why - it's not as if he'd go after her if she stormed out, but she stops with her hand on the doorknob. She whirls back to face him (he hopes, fleetingly, to see tears, but he knows this isn't enough to make her cry - that's a goal for another day) and crosses her arms petulantly.

"My thesis subject doesn't _matter_ , you're not involved with - "

He cuts her off as she spits the words at him, his voice growing colder and colder in opposition to her rising heat -

"But I should be. Who else are you supposed to work with? It's _my_ field - "

"It doesn't have to be _you_ , I _checked_ ," she bites out, nearly shouting now, "Professor Granville can oversee - "

He actually laughs at that, abrupt and mean-spirited. Rhiannon unfolds her arms, letting them dangle at her sides as she clenches her fists.

"Granville is a moron and you know it," he says caustically, "but, by all means - try to get some intelligent input from him while he's busy putting his hands up your skirt - "

"That's still preferable to _you_!" She barks, eyes wild, quickly advancing on him until her face is about a foot from his. " _Anything_ is preferable to you."

They stand, still and silent except for the heavy breathing that often punctuates heated arguments. He notices that a lock of hair has come loose from the twist at her crown; it falls over her face, adding to her manic look. Her eyes were locked, unwavering, on his; it's another thing that gets under his skin - people usually could not hold his gaze, and watching their eyes slide away from his was empowering, gratifying. Whenever _their_ vision collided, they got stuck - almost like she expected _him_ to crumble under _her_ stare.

He was beginning to acquire an aversion to green - one shade, in particular.

He suddenly wants her out of his office.

"I have the resources, knowledge, and experience necessary for the kind of research you need to do. My clout is significantly higher than Granville's. You _know_ your chances of success are greater with me, and I'm extending an offer that I will not make again. Take it or leave it."

"I can succeed perfectly well _without_ you, thanks," she snarls, "I only need a supervisor as a formality, I can handle the work myself."

"Yes," he breathes, searching deep inside himself for patience, "you likely can, but are you prepared to spend that much extra time? _Exponentially_ more time?" She starts to answer but he presses on. "You've just taken on more responsibilities in the school's ballet program, if I'm not mistaken? Surely you don't want to step down already? Or quit entirely, as the case may be."

Her mouth, which had been opening and closing in attempts to retort while he spoke, snaps shut. She clenches her jaw, glowers at him, bares her teeth - but apparently finds nothing to say.

He remains silent as he watches the mental struggle play out across her face; finally resignation settles in her eyes, and she pales visibly. His satisfaction at the sight is dulled by his desire to wrap his hands around her throat.

"Fine," she says quietly, voice hollow, "I accept."

"Good. Now get out."

She takes her leave like it's all she's ever wanted, pausing only to flip him off at the door.

As it slams shut, he stares at it, fingers flexing in agitation.

If she was still alive at the end of the semester, he'd be _shocked_.


End file.
